


Five Times Arthur Kissed Under The Mistletoe (And One Time He Sort Of Didn’t)

by xsilverdreamsx



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Arthur Kissing Everyone, Drunk Arthur, Fluffy fic, Lots of drinking, M/M, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 19:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xsilverdreamsx/pseuds/xsilverdreamsx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur gets five kisses under the mistletoe, but there's always something missing from all of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Arthur Kissed Under The Mistletoe (And One Time He Sort Of Didn’t)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Clocks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clocks/gifts).



> A holiday gift for [clocks](http://archiveofourown.org/users/clocks), who has been really supportive of my writing and my art, and who made me believe in myself. This fic is beta'ed by the wonderful [dansetheblues](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dansetheblues), who saves me from excessive use of commas, and makes me write better. <3

i.

“ _Kissssss!!!_ ”

Arthur cringes at the shriek coming from the living room and watches as a very drunk-looking girl shoves a limp bit of mistletoe at two girls sitting on the couch. They give her a withering glance that makes her pause even in her drunken state and she starts looking around the room for someone else to make out with her.

It’s Christmas, and Ariadne has invited over a group of friends to her place for a party that involves a lot of drinking, food and even more drinking. The team is invited, of course, and it’s the few rare times that he’s seen Dom look relaxed in a long time (it’s either the company, or the third bottle of beer in Dom’s hand that’s the cause of this. Arthur considers the latter.)

Arthur stares at his hands, and wonders why they’re empty. He was sure he was holding a glass of wine a few seconds ago. Or was it an hour ago? Time is a little blurry to him right now. (Arthur is quite positive that he’s probably a little drunk right now, but he stopped counting after Wine Glass Number Five.

Also, he has a sudden urge to pee.)

“Arthur!” Ariadne drapes her arms around his shoulders and shoves another glass of wine in his hands. “Drink!”

He thinks this is the most splendid idea he’s heard in a while. But he really needs to go, so he pushes his way through the crowd towards the bathroom. He ducks out into the hallway and nearly collides into Eames, who is cradling a bottle of wine and looks like he has just arrived.

“Whoa there, Arthur.” Eames grabs Arthur in time, before he can crash sideways into the wall.

“Eamesssssss” he slurs, the untouched wine in his glass sloshing everywhere. “Eames?”

Eames looks at him, strangely. Arthur grins back, gripping onto his coat lapels and trying not to fall down.

“You’re drunk, darling.”

“’m not drunk. ‘m happy, ‘s all.”

“Arthur…”

“You make me happy.” Arthur peers at Eames, who looks slightly amused, and continues rambling. “’appy things make me ‘appy.”

“Yes, I know,” Eames tells him gently, trying to extricate himself from Arthur’s death grip on his scarf.

Arthur looks up and grins at the ornament that happens to hang right over their heads. He points at it.

“M‘stletoe.”

“Why yes, that’s a mistletoe, Arthur.” Eames grins at him and then suddenly, he leans in.

Arthur’s heart beats faster, and he closes his eyes automatically and lifts his head. His mouth parts open, as he feels the heat emanating from Eames who’s moving closer and closer and then--

\-- Eames kisses Arthur on the cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Arthur,” Eames murmurs, before releasing Arthur’s shoulders and pulling back. “Where’s Ariadne? I must greet our lovely hostess and hand her this wine.” He wanders off and leaves Arthur standing underneath the mistletoe, gaping away.

Arthur blinks twice. He feels odd, dissatisfied, as if something is missing, but he can’t quite put his finger on it.

 

ii.

“Maybe because you’ve never kissed any other guys before?” Ariadne supplies. She and Arthur are sitting on the floor in her kitchen, passing a Tupperware container filled with home-baked Christmas cookies between each other, as the rest of the guests continue on partying in the rest of the apartment.

Arthur’s not sure why they’re sitting on the hard cold floor instead of the warm, cushiony chairs, but every time he makes a move to stand up, Ariadne threatens to hold the cookies hostage.

They’re _really_ tasty cookies. Arthur supposes that sacrificing his comfort for them is not a terrible trade.

At Ariadne’s question, however, he shakes his head and wonders if he’s in a dream. He’s checks his totem quickly. Nope. Reality, cold and cruel as always, is the state he is in right now. Which means, to Arthur’s disappointment, he’s on way to sobering up.

“What?”

“You know, kiss? That thing where two individuals touch lips?”

“Why.. how are you saying words right now.. you’re supposed to be drunk…”

“I cheated. Have been drinking water instead of white wine for the past few hours. Stop avoiding the question.”

“That’s not the point.”

“The point is you getting all weird when Eames kissed you on the cheek.”

“I shouldn’t have told you about Eames,” Arthur groans. “I hate him.”

“ _Liar_. You’ve been staring at his mouth the past two jobs and ogling his ass when you think no one’s looking. Now that he’s kissed you on the cheek, you’re freaking out because you know you want more.”

She leans over, swiping the cookie he’s been contemplating over for the past 30 seconds from his fingers and bites into it.

“I definitely have _not_ been looking at his ass” Arthur wants to say, but instead what comes out is “What the fuck, Ariadne, stop stealing my cookies.”

She swallows the rest of the cookie and pets his head. “I baked them. By law, I own them.”

“There’s no such thing,” Arthur argues. “Stop pretending you know law just because you watch ‘Suits’.”

“Whatever. You should kiss a few guys, by the way.”

“How will that solve my problem? Not that I have a problem, but-“

“Look, you told me before that none of the relationships you’ve had with girls have ever worked out, right? Because you were busy working to spend time with them. But what if, maybe it’s because of something else?”

Arthur sputters. “.. and _that’s_ why you think I’m having an existential crisis? I should be feeling offended right now.”

“You’re the only person I know who can think of the word ‘existential’ when he’s half-drunk and moping.” Shaking her head, she stands up and hauls Arthur to his feet. “Come on.”

Ariadne drags him out of the kitchen and into the hallway, before stopping him right at the entrance underneath the mistletoe. “Stand here.”

“What are you doing..”

“I’m going to kiss you. Under the mistletoe.”

“Didn’t we already kiss in a dream?”

“That was _so_ not a kiss,” Ariadne scoffs. “ _This_ is a kiss.” She grabs him by the shirt and kisses him, all tongue and teeth, before she pulls back and looks at him, expectantly.

Arthur winces. It had been nice, but at the same time really awkward. “Nothing.”

“Crap. That was one of my best attempts too.” Ariadne ponders this for a second and then flashes him a grin. “I’ll be right back!”

She disappears into the living room and seconds later comes out, followed by Yusuf.

“Come on, Yusuf. Think of this as an experiment!” she’s saying, and Arthur stands there and gapes.

Yusuf takes one look at him, shrugs and leans in, brushing his lips against Arthur’s. It’s brief, and chaste, and not unlike kissing a girl, but Arthur finds it a bit, well... boring.

“Well?” Ariadne asks.

Arthur shakes his head, and looks at Yusuf nervously. “Sorry, Yusuf.”

Yusuf grins instead and asks Ariadne. “Did you try anyone else?”

Arthur does not like the gleam in her eyes. Not one bit.

 

iii.

Arthur cringes, as Dom stares at him, once Ariadne has explained to him what he’s meant to do.

“No way am I drunk enough for this,” Arthur protests. Embarrassed, he quickly tries to cover his lack of mouth filter. “Not that you’re not, well, good-looking, Dom, just that….” He adds weakly, his words trailing off.

Dom snorts and pats him on the shoulder awkwardly before going back into the room.

 

iv.

Next is Saito. Saito happily kisses Arthur. For a bit longer than is appropriate though.

“Anything?” Ariadne prods. Arthur’s blushing furiously, more from the fact that Saito is looking pleased at himself.

Through the haze of alcohol, Arthur pauses, thinks and then shakes his head.

“Maybe he’s into women?” Yusuf is back, leaning against the doorway, holding the Tupperware he’s stolen from the kitchen and chomping on the cookies happily.

“No, I kissed him earlier and it was like kissing my brother.” Ariadne makes a face.

“I said women, not girls – _ow_!” Yusuf nearly drops the cookies as Ariadne pinches his arm. Very, _very_ painfully.

Saito considers this. “I believe I have the perfect candidate.”

 

v.

Arthur is beginning to wonder if he’s allowed to die from humiliation at this point. Probably not, if Saito kills him first for kissing his wife, which could still be highly possible even though it had been Saito’s idea to have her make out with Arthur.

Saito, however, does not kill him. In fact, he watches as his wife grabs Arthur and practically mauls his face before she pulls away, licking her lips and glancing at Saito with a gleam in her eye.

Before going back to the party, Saito leans in and whispers to Arthur to call him if he’s ever interested in a threesome.

Arthur decides to move on from wine to vodka.

 

vi.

Arthur wakes up the next morning, flat on his face and covered in pink blankets. He sits up, confused and disorientated, before realizing that he’s in a bedroom. A girl’s bedroom, from the looks of it and a quick glance at the photo frame next to the bedside table confirms that it’s Ariadne’s.

There’s a post-it note stuck to his phone right next to the frame and on it, Ariadne has scrawled “ _gone to store 4 food. left aspirin on kitchen table 4 u_ ”.

A long hot shower does wonders for his head, as does the aspirin Ariadne has left behind for him. He wanders around the apartment and notes that the place has been cleaned up; the bottles have been cleared, the rubbish bags tied up and stacked near the front door and the furniture put to rights. The kitchen is in a pristine condition, and there’s a pot of hot coffee on the table, which Arthur pours into a mug, internally thanking Ariadne for her foresight.

As he’s standing in the hallway with the mug in his hand, he looks up and realizes that he’s back in the same spot where Eames had kissed him the night before - right underneath the mistletoe.

He glares at the leafy bundle and decides to burn the thing.

Dragging a chair over, he starts to climb up in order to reach the mistletoe. However, let it be known that black coffee and aspirin does not instantly restore one’s sense of gravity, especially after a night of mixing wine, vodka, and a strange green concoction tasting of melons. Arthur is trying to balance himself on the chair, having managed to stop it from wobbling, when the front door opens. In his surprise, he reaches out to grab at the mistletoe, which he discovers is quite useless in holding onto his weight, and he falls backwards –

\-- right into a pair of warm arms.

“Really love, that’s the second time I’ve had to save you this week.” Eames’ voice rumbles from behind him, his chest warm against Arthur’s back. “First from flattening your pretty nose on the wall last night, and now from cracking your head on the floor. I usually charge double for such jobs.”

Suddenly, Arthur recalls the previous night – being drunk and hitting on Eames underneath the mistletoe, and telling Ariadne about the incident, and oh gods, kissing Yusuf and Saito and even Saito’s wife. He remembers vaguely getting more drunk after that, but it’s all a blur, right before he wakes up in Ariadne’s room.

He wants to crawl into a hole and hide in there forever, because he also remembers deciding that it would be a _splendid_ idea to stand on top of the table and recite Browning. To the Christmas tree, where Eames had been standing.

“Oh gods, let me go die somewhere from shame.”

Eames chuckles, and Arthur thinks that his arms feel very nice and warm and considers staying in that position a little longer, but Eames’s grip starts to loosen as if he’s about to let Arthur go. A small whine of protest escapes Arthur’s mouth before he can stop himself.

Eames freezes. “Arthur?”

Arthur squeezes his eyes shut, and sighs. “Why didn’t you kiss me last night?” He might as well get it out of his system.

“What?”

“Last night, underneath the mistletoe. You kissed me on the cheek, which was, nice, but ….” Arthur’s voice trails off, as his ears redden. He holds his breath and waits for Eames to let him down gently, so he can get this over and done with and go back to his life normally, instead of having this ridiculous question hanging over his head.

Eames laughs.

That was _not_ what Arthur was expecting. He considers turning around to punch Eames in the face and struggles to escape from Eames’ arms, but the other man quickly tightens his grip around Arthur’s body.

“Arthur, Arthur, stop running, and hear me out, please. Look, you were so drunk, and out of it. I didn’t want to kiss you in that state, and then have you possibly hate me when you were sober.” His tone softens, and Arthur can hear the uncertainty lingering in his voice. “I admit that seeing everyone else kiss you after that made it very hard for me not to go over and punch them instead.”

Arthur manages to pull out of Eames’ grip and he turns around, putting his hands out to steady himself against the other man’s chest. He’s looking up at Eames, looking at his eyes and wondering why he has never noticed how beautiful they were before and takes note of his kissable lips and his perfect face.

All the times that they’ve been working together, all the times that they’ve been throwing jibes and sarcastic remarks, Arthur has always been irritated at Eames. Eames, who has flirted with him, like he flirts with everyone, and now Arthur realizes that he had been _jealous_ of the attention the others had gotten.

Arthur wants to laugh. He had been in love with Eames all along, with Eames feeling the same way and somehow they had _both_ ended up acting jealous.

Arthur will wonder about this moment, this _specific_ moment when he finally realizes why no one else can make his heart beat faster and his palms sweat and his lips go dry like Eames does when he’s around Arthur. No one else can look at him the way Eames looks at him, like he’s looking at him right now, as if Arthur is everything and everything he’s ever wanted.

He looks at the mistletoe in his hands, the leaves all crushed, and then realizes he doesn’t need a damn plant as an excuse to kiss Eames.

And then Arthur thinks, well, _fuck it_.

Throwing the mistletoe aside, he slides his hands up around Eames’ neck, pulling him down closer and kissing him fully on the lips. Startled, Eames freezes for a second and then relaxes, pulling Arthur closer to him as he kisses him back.

And finally, _finally_ , Arthur realizes that this is perfect and exactly what he had been missing the entire night.

He’s not letting it go, ever again.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Disclaimer** : I own none of these characters. They belong to Chris Nolan, and I am just playing in the dream levels of his world.


End file.
